


Good Boy

by Chuyolis



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Milking, Non Consensual, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Parent/Child Incest, Sibling Incest, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-19
Updated: 2013-03-19
Packaged: 2017-12-05 20:37:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/727678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chuyolis/pseuds/Chuyolis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Dean decide to bring Sammy back under the family control in a fairly unconventional way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Boy

**Author's Note:**

> I'm... sorry(?) for this. It's basically just porn. Long, drawn out porn with a Sam who's not entirely sure what's going on, and pretty much drugged out of his mind.

Something was wrong.

The world was blurred and... hazy, tilting from one side to the other, making it difficult to keep standing. Sam had gone to the bathroom, asking Dean to look after his drink and he couldn't figure out what happened. He was only 16, but dad wasn't all that concerned if his boys drank a beer or two every now and then.

"Dean?" He said, steadying himself against his brother. "Dean, somthi- somethings wr'ng. Don't feel good."

"Can't keep your alcohol, huh, baby boy?" Dean teased. He smoothed a hand down Sam's back and Sam arched into the touch, pleasure suddenly lighting every nerve. A lot of the world didn't make sense right then, but he was relatively sure that he didn't usually react like that.

"Dean," he gasped, pressing himself against Dean's chest.

"Okay, let's get you home, Sammy," Dean said, too loud against Sam's apparently sensitive hearing, and he flinched away from the noise when Dean called for dad.

 

He wasn't sure how they got back to the motel. Not a lot made sense and Dean and dad were bickering about something while all Sam wanted to do was to curl up against Dean and get more of those sensations he'd gotten in the bar.

Words such as _'dose', 'drugs', 'too much'_ and _'shit'_ slid past him. He knew that they meant something, but it wasn't important, so he let them slip through his fingers, not even trying to hold on to them.

Before he knew it, clothes were coming off, Dean struggling with Sam's jeans and dad sliding off his shirt.

 

He was on his back on a bed, head cradled in Dean's lap and he didn't know what happened between then and now. He frowned at the thought, but a brush of fingers against one of his nipples quickly blanked his mind, whited out everything that wasn't pleasure.

There was something, a soft, soothing noise in his ear. Dean, he recognized. Soft words that didn't mean anything to Sam as Dean's fingers rolled a hardened nipple between them. It had to be Dean's, because dad was at the foot of the bed, looking at them.  
The fingers were rough, a product from years of handling weapons, but the touches were soft and loving.

Dad knelt on the bed, pushing Sam's legs apart and Sam wasn't entirely sure why, but he didn't mind. He crawled further on the bed, settling himself between Sam's spread, long legs, stroking them softly.

Sam gasped, throwing his head back and arched his back when dad's touches crept towards the inside of his thighs, close to his groin. Sam spread his legs wider.

 

He didn't know why he did, and a small, nagging voice at the back of his head said _'no'_ , but the rest of his body was screaming _'yes'_ , so he did it anyway. It felt too good not to when he was rewarded with dad's hand going further up, close to his cock, but not really there yet.

What left Sam's mouth was something close to a whine when the area he wanted touched was ignored.  
Instead, a mouth closed around his other nipple, and everything else no longer mattered.

He tried to push his chest further up, further into the mouth that was sucking, nibbling, licking the little nub of flesh that was suddenly so sensitive, but hands on his shoulders kept him down and he could barely move under the heavy body on top of his own.

He rolled his hips and, when white pleasure sparked behind his eyelids, did it again.

 

"You go- leave -s, Sammy?" A voice growled in his ear, words disjointed and fuzzy around the edges. "Gonna lea- your bro-er and me -ere?"

Sam shook his head, because that didn't make sense. There was nothing outside the press of the two bodies against his own, nothing useful that would make him leave the continuous feeling of pleasure surging through him.

"Good boy," dad said and ground his hips against Sam's. Somewhere in Sam's garbled mind, that was a reward for the right answer.

 

The body, his dad, suddenly stopped pressing against his own, leaving his cock without friction and he sobbed. He tried to reach down to touch himself, but his hands were caught by Dean. Dean whom he'd almost forgotten, stroking a hand up and down Sam's side, gently settling him until his hips stopped bucking into the air.

Dean was murmuring again, praising him for being _so good, so beautiful, Sammy,_ and Sam felt a warm glow in his chest by the praise.  
Seeking more of it, he spread his legs when dad nudged them against, prompting another wave of loving words and another spark of pleasure when Dean brushed the nipple dad had made wet and hard with his mouth.

 

Something wet, slippery, but not cold, pushed against his ass and he shied away from it, confused. Dad's hand caught his hip and pressed it into the bed and then the pressure returned.  
It was a strange sensation, something pressing inwards from the outside and Sam wasn't sure he liked it, twisting in Dean's and dad's hold.

"Shush, -mmy," Dean said, taking a firm hold of Sam's hair. "Still, it'll fe- good."

Dean had never let him down. Sam locked eyes with his brother the best he could and stilled, letting his legs fall wider.

 

"Good, Sam-. You're do- so g-d, baby boy."  
Sam relaxed at the continuous praise, let the slippery feeling return. He looked down his body, limbs still uncoordinated as he tried to find out what... _Oh._  
Dad's fingers. Dad's fingers were wet and when the slippery slide into his body started this time, he relaxed around it. His dad wouldn't hurt him.

Still, it felt strange, and he twitched a little, only settling as Dean's hushed.

It felt strange, but it also felt good, nerve endings he didn't know he had lighting up when the finger slid in and out of him.

Sam tilted his head back, exposing the long line of his throat in unconscious submission as the finger slid faster and crooked and-  
Sam couldn't even think when something suddenly burst into pleasure inside him. He moaned, loud to his own ears and his hips twitched in the iron hold his dad had on them.

He was fully hard by now and he whined when dad's finger slipped out, still incapable of stringing words together.

 

When two pressed in, he felt fuller than he ever had and two fingers could press better against whatever it was inside that made it feel so good. Dad's thumb rubbed against his perineum, also slick and the dual sensations made Sam keen loudly, desperately trying to push down against his dad's hand.

Sam's hands were twisting in Dean's hold, but his brother held him firmly. Sam wasn't as strong as Dean, not yet. He was getting taller, but Dean was still stronger, bulk winning out against his gangly arms and legs.  
He tried to arch his back, thrust, get friction against his aching cock, but nothing he did made Dean and dad ease up on their firm grips.

He whimpered and laid still, panting from the exertion and dad just continued, unhurriedly and unbothered, to push against those places Sam had no idea could ever feel good.

 

"Please," he gasped, tongue almost tripping over the elusive word. "Please."

Dad didn't seem to hear him. He didn't push harder, didn't speed up.

Sam nearly sobbed when the next _'please'_ passed over his lips. Dean was leaning over him, thumb brushing away a tear that slipped free, kissing his nose breathing with him.

 

"Go- be good, -ammy?" He asked. Sam looked into his brothers eyes as his brain, slower than ever and overrun with sensations, tried to process the words. When he finally got it, he nodded quickly, whimpering. "Gonna stay whi- us?"  
Sam nodded again, biting his lip. His body bucked again when dad pushed his fingers in a little harder than before in reward and he sobbed at the knowledge that he couldn't move forward or backward, pinned in place and forced to take what they would give him.

 

"Please."

Neither of them listened to the sobbed plea, didn't care about how he was twitching. Sam felt like he was going to die, body hijacked and not under his command and he couldn't come.  
He was so close, so maddeningly close to coming and his body just wouldn't tip over.

Dean kept speaking to him, praising him for how good he was. He kept repeating the question if Sam was going to leave them and every time Sam shook his head or managed to gasp, sob or whimper out a _'no'_ , he was rewarded with an extra hard thrust from dad, a praise from Dean.

He didn't know how long it went on, the constant pleasure surging through his veins, but no matter how long it did, he never came.

Dad added another finger, three of them thrusting in and out of his clenching hole and he was babbling, a stream of disjointed words, pleas for more, promises to never leave. He _wanted_. He wanted something, but he didn't know what it was anymore.

He wanted to come, he wanted to be good, he wanted to stop, to keep going, to never leave, to always obey. It was too much and not enough at the same time and his mind was pulled in several directions at once as he begged, pleaded, screamed.

 

Dad dragged him a bit further down the bed, off Dean's lap and hiked his hips further up on his own, Sam's long legs draping over dad's hips, legs still spread wide. It gave dad a better angle, because suddenly he was speeding up and Sam was almost continuously screaming and sobbing, tears flowing down his cheeks.

Dean swung his jeans clad leg over Sam, settling himself on Sam's stomach. Still gripping Sam's wrists tight in one hand over Sam's head, he leaned over an kissed him, muffling every scream with his own mouth, tongue pushing past Sam's lips.

Sam didn't have any thoughts left. He couldn't scream, couldn't move, couldn't even string half a word together as the pleasure escalated.

It felt like he was coming, but he quite obviously wasn't, because it didn't feel like anything he'd ever felt when he'd played with himself in stolen moments in the shower.

He tried to beg, but he couldn't remember how to talk. His body was taut like a bowstring as his dad continued to rub his fingers inside Sam and there was release of some kind, but he didn't come.

Finally, finally, the sensation ended. He felt wrung out and his body was going lax, boneless.  
His eyes rolled up into his head, but just before everything went black, he could still hear Dean.

"Don't leave us."

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this for an old prompt at spnkink-meme on livejournal  
> http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/50345.html?thread=13168553#t13168553
> 
> The prompt was:  
> Dean and John decide that they need to bring their boy back under the family control. They spike Sam's drink and lay his semi-conscious form down on a motel bed. Dean holds him and soothes him , whispering encouragement in his ear, while John gives him a very long, gentle, drawn out prostate massage, lasting an hour or more. By the time it's over Sam's a begging , sobbing mess and passes out in his Daddy's and Brother's arms. Bonus points if Sams still a little naive and vanilla and doesn't know why his body reacts the way it does.


End file.
